


perchance to dream

by likebrightness



Category: Weeds
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-15
Updated: 2011-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-24 02:14:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/257754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p><b>A/N:</b> Written for Kink Bingo. Kinks: silence, breathplay</p>
    </blockquote>





	perchance to dream

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** Written for Kink Bingo. Kinks: silence, breathplay

  
  
She most thinks she loves him when he sleeps next to her.

He is not silent—what with the night farts, in addition to general sleepy mumblings—but he is mostly quiet. He is so rarely quiet with her, always with the talking and the talking and the _talking_ , that she loves him when he sleeps.

Sometimes it makes her think of other ways that she could shut him up. She thinks of kissing him, of how he couldn’t talk with her tongue in his mouth. But she remembers what he was like with Jill. He talked the whole time he was _fucking her sister_.

But she flatters herself. She likes to think that there is something more between them, that when they finally do something—and she doesn’t kid herself, it’s a when, not an if—it will be more than _Oh, God_ and _fuck, yes,_ there, _Jesus_. She likes to think that he would be quiet. She thinks she would be. She always is when he gets serious, when he says things like _we could be more. I would like to try_. She gets quiet because he _is_ Andy, and he is not supposed to be serious. He is the comic relief of her life, except he is also the rock, the pendejo who sticks around. And she forgets sometimes that she is one of those things he loves, one of those things he fights for, and when she remembers, she gets quiet. Him being quiet, him sleeping, it’s one of the things that makes her remember.

On nights when her mind won’t stop, when she can’t stop herself from thinking of the hundreds of ways she could get herself killed, could get her family killed, she lays next to him and listens to his breath. It helps her remember that she is loved, helps her remember how to be quiet.

He doesn’t snore. He just breathes, calm, steady, gentle. She’s taken to matching his breath on nights like that. She times her inhales and exhales with his and suddenly everything seems a little softer, like the world doesn’t have as many sharp corners.

She is not used to focusing on her breath. When Judah was alive she did yoga like all the other suburban housewives. She took deep breaths and tried to clear her mind. But now, there are so many things on her mind, so many things to focus on, scary fucking things, that she never takes the time to really breathe anymore.

He breathes more deeply than she is used to. She has to fight her body to keep inhaling, but she always wins. It’s exhilarating to have that kind of control over something.

She never could clear her mind in yoga. She was always thinking about how Shane had soccer practice that afternoon and what would she make for dinner and didn’t Silas have a test that week? Even when she was trying to push everything away, it just festered at the back of her mind. Those things seem so much less important than her problems now, than if Esteban will kill her and when, than if he’ll steal her son, than if she’ll have to take the boys and flee. Her problems now are life threatening, but when she breathes along with Andy, she forgets them. She focuses on the weight of him next to her on the bed, on the way their wrists touch, laying across the pillow wall between them. She focuses on _in_ and _out_ and _in_ again, and listens to the silence between them.

  



End file.
